Where I work, we use an outside agency to clean the bathrooms and provide general maintenance duties throughout the building. For some reason, they've sent some seriously incapable individuals to do this job for years. Cleaning a shitter shared by 90 people is a fairly important - and simple - task. Somehow, though, time and time again we deal with people so incomprehensibly bad at holding a mop and emptying trash cans that you have to wonder how they made it this far in life. The last kid even broke a fucking toilet seat trying to clean some curly alfalfa sprouts from under it. I'll say it again - he broke a goddamned toilet seat. Anything is an improvement over this neverending cycle of smarmy creatures.

They recently brought in a new body to throw on the pile. This cat's in his sixties, can't hear a thing, and skips half of the shit he's supposed to do every day. We like him, though, because he he's a little quirky, he's got some wonderfully creepy mutton chops, and he does the essentials. After clearing the trash in the break room, before scrubbing the johns, he'll dance and sing some shit that none of us can understand a word of. We don't care, he's entertaining. We're cool with it, he does enough to get by. The guy won't be here forever, but he's all we need for now. If that lede didn't make it blatantly obvious enough, The Apologist isn't available this week so I've been called up in his absence. The janitorial situation we're now all aware of is all too similar to the wonderfully incompetent American football team we all share an interest in, and that really saddens me. For years (let's say fifteen of them), we've been through some serious shit as Bills fans - most of it stemming from their complete lack of comprehension when it comes to finding and developing a quarterback. Jumping from clogged toilets like JP Losman to vomit-soaked carpet akin to EJ Manuel is really leaving us wanting here. We all do our part to get excited for the new guy, with hopes he's at the very least a slight improvement over the last. Unfortunately, most of them fizzle out before you get a chance to really give a shit about them, which is what happened to Manuel. This city is so thirsty for relevance that the majority of fans were calling for his head after a shortened rookie year. Given four more starts this season with average to terrible results, EJ was benched the reigns were turned over to journeyman and noted good-time machine known as Kyle Orton.

At every stop in his NFL career, Orton has been unspectacular if not boring, but still managed a .500 record which is a lot more than most in his situation could say. The dude took over last week and won us over with a decidedly mediocre game. Sure, he threw for 300 yards and touchdown, but he also threw a pick and a ton of short passes against a strong Lions defense. Point is, he did what he could and what his team needed. A snazzy catch by Sammy "The Glen" Watkins and a magical field goal by Special Teams Jesus were what decided it, not Orton's play. He moved the offense, took what the defense was giving him, and kept the club in it. That's all they need right now.

He's not ideal, and it's just one game, but he's (Christ... so, so sadly) the closest thing we've had to everyone's wanted in a Tom Brady figure in years. Speaking of Tom, he's coming to town this weekend with his New England Patriots and is more than welcome to go fuck himself. With the history these teams have had since Brady's been at the helm of the former doormat of the East, it's always satisfying to think about topping them and taking a win to wear as a badge of honor for the rest of the season. Every blogger's expert analysis when this matchup comes around is that the good guys have to get to Brady. At least that's what they write. Get them a few slugs of fireball, and you'll find that the more apt advice is to get him to the hospital. I'm not usually one who cheers for injuries to any athlete, but the thought of Touchdown Tom breaking his leg again in Orchard Park this Sunday got me to half mast quicker than David Carradine in a belt factory.